Redemption
by Mustsleep
Summary: His brother's teammate is dying and he can't help but feel something should be done. The position she is in brings up painful memories of his past, but perhaps he can find redemption. Non-mass. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**_Update 9/23/13 -_**_ A great big thank you to xxSaphireBluexx who did a wonderful job editing this chapter! _

_This is written for the two unique voters in a poll on my profile page. They selected Angst and Long, Deep read. The angst in the fic is a little light, but it does increase overtime. This story will only be about 3-shots, 4 tops and 2-bottom. Let's see if I can keep within this limit._

_A long time ago, I was worried about this story stealing the plot line of another I had been working on. I did eventually end up posting the story, Sleeping Beauty, and as you may note, the stories are nothing alike. Sleeping Beauty was supposed to be a multi-chapter fic, but I found that the ending was just too good to touch. Perhaps one day there will be a continuation, but Redemption is not it. _

_Thank you for clicking on the link and coming to this page to read my story, I hope my A/N didn't scare you off. May God bless you and please have a good week, those of you returning to school: ~Good Luck!~ I shall be going back also…_

_If you have the time, please leave a review. Let me know what you liked (or didn't like) about the characters, plot, etc. _

_Z.z _

* * *

><p>Redemption<p>

Chapter 1

There was only so much that he could say in such a situation. It wasn't in his place nor was it any of his business; but standing outside of the door, listening to his brother and his brother's best friend worry and almost cry over their teammate, made him far more acute and sensitive to what was going on. He cared deeply for his brother; for the boy's mental, emotional and physical health. Right now, his brother was struggling emotionally and it would likely affect his physical and mental recovery. He leaned his back against the wall, waiting patiently for his brother to come out and explain; although he already knew the entire story from a nurse, which he had sought out in the halls.

He had arrived at the hospital three days ago at around four in the morning, after a good friend relayed a gate watcher's message that his brother and his team had been severely injured and had been rushed into surgery. He'd come straight away, ignoring the unfinished report he'd been working on. There he'd waited in the hallway; consoling his terrified mother, and easing his father's paranoid and angry belief that someone in Konoha wanted his youngest dead. The first in and out was the demon container, nobody wanted to take a chance at a weakened seal. The second was his younger brother due to his family's high profile. Third was the copy-nin, a great asset to the village. The fourth was the girl, one born from civilian status.

The problem was the order in which they went in. According to the nurse, the girl had been in worse condition than his brother and copy-nin, she had more outside wounds and had been unconscious. But the longer the girl had gone without treatment the more damage happened in her internal system due to a poison that had gone undetected. They only discovered it when they got her on the table. By then she was almost too late to be saved.

His brother and friend now stared over their comrade in silent remorse of guilt and pain at seeing her in the current condition she was in. She would never again return to being a shinobi, at least that is what the doctor said. It was even unlikely she would be able to return to living normally. Internally, the damage to her heart and lungs had put her on the list for a donor. It was still unknown whether her right kidney would last. The wound that exposed her was still open, and seeping. It was a long gash on her right arm and it looked close to festering. She was under close watch to make sure she did not erupt into a fever. Antibiotics were being pumped into her every hour. On the back of her right leg was a long scar, trailing from her lower calf to her upper thigh. The crude healing of a tired, overworked, chakra-exhausted medic-nin had left the area with tight, scrunched scar tissue. If the girl was ever able to fully stretch out again, it would be enough to consider it a miracle.

This was the first time her teammates had been able to see her. The container had awoken twenty-two hours after his surgery; his brother thirty-eight; the copy-nin had yet to come around. The two boy's being in the same room together had demanded to see both their sensei and their comrade. Finally after twelve hours of arguing and locking doors and chaining the blond escape artist to his bed, the head doctor finally allowed the two of them to leave the room to see their team under the condition they were to confine themselves to wheelchairs. They'd seen the copy-nin first. Then, they'd come to see her. No one had told them what to expect.

It was obvious the two had believed she'd been the least hurt of them all. She was the only one that the reapers blade still balanced above though. The medic-nin had quietly tried to explain, avoiding mention his part of destroying her leg. The boys had yet to find out that their priority had almost, if not yet, killed their friend. It would be a hard lesson, one which the world would soon lay upon their shoulders. It would be a weight they would bare every day of their lives, in every fight, in every mission, in every team assignment they encountered. Not until they died would they be released from their burden. It would be in the back of their minds and it would push them even farther to become stronger, but it would also nag at their courage and drag them into the pits of doubt. But they would learn to deal with it; to bury it deeply and make it invisible to the outside, just as he had.

Even though the situation was different only in that, at least for now, the teammate had survived. He could not even begin to imagine what it would be like to see the effects of the damage every time they saw her. Carved words on a gravestone had been hard enough on him. At least they would get the chance he never had. She would be able to hear their apology, but would she forgive them? Would his teammate have forgiven him? Perhaps some questions were better left unasked.

The man leaned back his head and looked up at the ceiling, thinking quietly upon the past. He remembered staring up at the same lights as they rolled him through. He remembered the mask they shoved upon his face, the pain arching through his spine, the blood pooling from his lower abdomen. He remembered the only thing he said when he woke up. 'Where was he?' What had happened to his teammate, his ally, his equal? It turned out they were not so equal after all. Black lashes combined as the man closed his eyes. The door opened and the eyelids retracted, once again allowing sight to the man.

The faces of the two looked sunken, as if the skin upon their faces had shrank from the sight before their eyes and the truth of what they saw. His brother's eyes were casted down at the ground and the container was staring ahead, eyes filled with determination for achieving a promise to the unconscious girl. The medic patted the two boys' heads in an odd form of comfort not fitting for the situation, and then the man walked down the hall leaving him to deal with the grief stricken children.

He waited patiently for one of them to speak or begin moving. But both were lost in their own thoughts and didn't even acknowledge his presence. It took some time, at least twenty minutes, for the blond haired container to finally regain thought of the present. He turned his head up and looked at the man in the eyes. The blue eyes were wide and glistening with unshed tears.

"They don't think Sakura is going to make it," the words came out like a whisper. It was what it took for the boy to acknowledge the reality of what was going to happen to his friend. The boy shook in his chair and he gripped the edges of his arm rests. No tears fell; the boy was waiting for later to shed them, where he could mourn without public witness.

The man gave a solemn nod and looked at the girl through the clear glass. Would she live? Even if she did, the life awaiting someone so injured would likely be horrible. She would curse those that saved her; curse those that forced her to live in such a painful state. She'd probably end up wondering if her life was worth living at all.

"I'm going back," the boy said before making his way through the halls in a silence unnatural from his normal over-joyous and rowdy personality.

He let the boy go, knowing it was best that he be alone for a time to gather his thoughts. Silence and rest is what the boy needed. The demon inside him may have aided in the healing process; but there was still a need for the boy to regain strength, especially after such a devastating blow to his moral. He would give the boy time, and then perhaps he would offer aid. This would be the first time the boy had lost someone he knew that was close to him. It was likely the boy had never dealt with such grief beyond the 'what ifs' of parents, but even he didn't know if they'd left him or had died.

Black eyes looked down at the person in the remaining wheelchair, and then they looked back at the girl on the bed. He wondered if the girl's parents had been notified, civilians were often overlooked by the shinobi society. It was likely that it had not been done, for usually the genin teacher was the one that handled all contact with the families of the children. He made a mental note to do so as soon as he made sure his brother was back in his room. It would be wrong for a child to die alone or for a parent to be unaware and separated at this time. The pain was great enough already without adding upon the grief with regret. His old teammate's mother had yet to look at him without crying and the father without looking sharply away.

"Itachi..."

The man looked down at his younger brother. "Yes Sasuke?"

The boy looked up at him. Black eyes met black.

Itachi squatted, reached out and grabbed Sasuke's hand.

"This is my fault," the boy told him quietly. The shoulders slumped more and the eyes dropped from the stare. The boy had admitted to his greatest crime. There was the want of punishment, the craving of retribution that Itachi knew too well. The boy wanted something to make it right, as if the scales could once again tip into equal balance.

"How so?" What reasoning had the boy come up with? Was the boy more perceptive than what Itachi had always given him credit for?

"I could have blocked the attack. If I'd just..." The black eyes wandered the hallway, seeing all the possibilities of things he should have done. The power of their clan stayed within their head. Every detail of the fight, and the layout and the movements, played in their minds over and over again. He was seeing what he could have done to be closer to her, to have saved her, to have killed the poisoner, to have pointed out the ambush, to have stopped the blade from tearing into the chest cavity of the boy with brown hair-

Itachi blinked and turned his gaze from his brother. They were cursed, truly cursed with their eyes. He turned back to his younger sibling. It was too late for him to be saved, but Sasuke... Itachi tapped foreheads with Sasuke and looked into his eyes.

"Do not go down that road little brother." It would never stop and it would eat him alive until he drove himself mad. The past had to remain in the past. There were times when analyzing such a fight would be beneficial in learning what to do in the next. But not in this case. The visions would get worse and more desperate, even seeing oneself take the blow in the stead of another. It would only bring more pain and sorrow. It would only bring more grief. "Trust me. When you see it, live only for the present." _Or you will drown in misery, _he wanted to add, but instead he held his tongue. His brother did not need anymore weight added upon his young shoulders.

The boy nodded and breathed in the comfort of a familiar smell. "I... I just want... I just want her to be ok. I want to make everything go back to the way it was."

If only there was such a power. "I know." He knew the feeling of overwhelming that came with the realization that things were going to be different, so very different. Everything would change and the world would feel too wrong to be real.

Itachi squeezed his brother's hand and Sasuke squeezed back. After that Itachi stood and began pushing his brother through the halls carefully to avoid bumping the outstretched casted limb of a right leg.

When he got Sasuke to his room, Itachi helped him in getting through the bathroom door. There he waited outside for instructions to open it. His eyes scanned the rest of the room and they fell upon the drawn curtain of his brother's best friend. In the morning he would speak with the boy. The boy needed someone to help guide him through this time and since he had neither caretaker nor anyone close besides his teammates. It seemed to Itachi that the responsibility fell to his teammate's family. An extended relation. Although it was relative that he speak with the boy, he knew that he was too straight forward. He would make sure his mother was able to comfort the child; goodness knew the boy needed someone at this moment to give physical 'thereness' at a time where another physical entity would likely depart from the boy's life.

There came the quiet cough that signaled Itachi to his job. He opened the door and helped his brother get into the bed. He made sure the boy was settled and that he needed nothing else. But before he left, Sasuke grabbed the sleeve of his shirt.

"Are you coming back tonight?"

It wasn't that late, but he had a duty that had to be taken care of. "No, I'll be back in the morning though." His brother's face fell. The boy did not wish to be left alone; surely the image of his friend would haunt him at his brother's departure. Itachi nodded, knowing how hard it was for him to sleep after the death of his teammate. "Shisui will be stopping by later," Itachi told him, to cheer him up. He'd make sure that Shisui talked Sasuke to sleep. After that though, the boy would be on his own.

He gave his brother's out reaching arm a squeeze to let him know that he needed to be let go of. After that he left for the main bar in the village where he found his older cousin sitting at his usual spot. It took only a few minutes to explain the situation to his cousin and to get him agree to see Sasuke.

Itachi left there and went to the police station to get the location of the girl's home. He walked through the streets, using the time to prepare himself for what was to come. He'd only done a notification four times. Each had been the death of a family member. It was considered polite for notifications to come within the clan when the person was above the rank of genin. He did not know whether it was for allowing people to view the clan as strong and emotionless or so that the family could grieve together. He preferred it for the latter, but only the former made sense in the political realm.

He finally stood before the door.

He raised his hand and knocked.

It took several moments but finally the door opened to reveal a short, stout woman with well-kept hair and a decent dress, fitting of a middle class merchant.

"How may I help you, Uchiha-san?" The woman asked with a light smile upon her face. There was logic in the brown eyes, and it was obvious to him that she was very intelligent in the realm of business. She was being polite, but he could tell she was upset that he'd come so late to talk to her. He wondered how she would take the news.

"You're Mrs. Haruno, correct?"

She smiled brighter, as if certain he was here for business. He just needed to make sure that he told the right person. "Yes, I am."

"Your Sakura's mother?" He needed to make absolutely certain.

The woman's facial expressions changed immediately. It occurred to her that the man before her was the brother of Sakura's team member. Her lips tightened and her fists balled up, anxiety setting in. "Yes," she said.

"Has anyone been by to see you?" Had anyone even thought to speak with her?

"No," her voice was starting to sound raw. She was beginning to image what was happening.

"I am sorry to inform you, your daughter is in the intensive care unit at the hospital. She was exposed to a poison that has caused massive damage to her system. They-" he was going to say more, but the woman had shoved him out of the doorway. She ran through the streets, barefoot, in the direction of the hospital; not caring who saw her flight.

Quietly, Itachi retrieved his pick lock tools from his side pocket. He closed her door and locked it. Then he took to the roof and began making his way to the hospital, although not rushing. He was unsure as to why he went; he could just return home and get some needed rest. When he walked through the main door, he was glad his instinct had told him to follow.

"What do you mean I can't see my daughter!" M**r**s. Haruno cried to the head nurse blocking the entrance to the rest of the hospital.

"It is passed visiting hours, ma'am. I'm sorry but you can return in the morning," the nurse replied sternly, looking every bit like the shinobi she'd once been.

"Look I am going to see my daughter!"

"I said no."

"Let her through," Itachi said, his normal smooth voice grated with an edge that caused all within the waiting room and in the entranceway to look at him.

"Excu-"the nurse turned her head to look, her body gathering height to tower over her opponent. But the sight of him caused all words to retract down her throat.

His eyes swirled, red and black, slowly in anger. If the woman had been a shinobi, if the girl had not been born a civilian, they would have stepped aside. The dress marked the woman as a target, an outcast so to speak. An easy person to bully into submission. His mother would only have to walk through the door, during any hour, to get an escort to any Uchiha's room she pleased. His clan held such power. It filled his soul with fire to see the other side of the coin.

The nurse gave a choking cough and a short nod. He could see the sweat drops beginning to form on her brow and the dilation of her eyes increasing. She was scared.

"I'm sure you owe Mrs. Haruno an escort to her daughter's room in the intensive care ward. I would also hope you would alert a medic to inform her of her daughter's injuries as well as get her a cup of coffee as an apology for your rude and uncalled for behavior," he told the woman, keeping his face expressionless.

The nurse gave a slow nod as if barely understanding his words.

"The sooner the better," he said to get the woman to work.

It took a moment of hesitation before the nurse rocked back on her heels. "Of course. Mrs. Haruno, please follow me. Do you like your coffee black or with sugar?"

The brown haired woman looked back at Itachi with gratitude. "Sugar and cream please."

"Please feel free to call on me if you have any other troubles with the hospital Mrs. Haruno," he told the mother, but the words were not for her. He doubted the civilian would bother speaking with someone like himself. She probably had nightmares about people like him. His words were for the nurse to carry to her fellow employees. It was what his mother called a sweet worded threat.

"Thank you."

The two women walked down the hallway to the elevator, and then they disappeared from view. Black eyes then looked around the room. All attention was focused on the powerful shinobi, as if they thought he was likely to attack. He cut off his blood limit and raised an eyebrow in question and carefully made sure to meet all of their eyes. They turned their gaze as soon as they met his. There would be talk all around town tomorrow. More than likely it would be about how the Uchiha heir was becoming more stuck up and threatening. There wasn't anything he could do about it now though.

"To think that nurse would stop a poor mother from seeing her dying daughter," said a voice breaking the silence. The voice was loud, obnoxious and looking out for Itachi's reputation, which meant it could only be one person: Shisui.

Itachi turned around and noticed his cousin had been hiding around the corner; more than likely the man had seen him and decided to follow just to see what he was up to. The man walked up and tossed an arm around Itachi's shoulders. "Sasuke is sound asleep. I decided I'd read him one of those technical scrolls," Shisui grinned turning them around to begin walking out the entrance, "You heading home?"

Itachi gave a nod of his head. "Are you?"

"Nah, I think I'm going back to the bar; you're welcome to come with."

As much as a drink would ease his calming nerves, it would probably intoxicate him with his stomach empty. The intoxication would not be so bad, for it would most likely drown out the pains of his past, but he needed a clear head to think. The future was not looking so well for his younger brother and it was likely that he would need to comfort him soon. He needed to speak with his mother about the container. It would probably take some time to get her to listen to his idea, but he had no doubt she would enjoy coddling a child, since she'd never truly been able to do so with her own children.

He also wanted to ask her about the girl; his mother had once studied poisons and healing, she would know what the girl's life would turn out to be like if she were to live. He wanted to find a way to help the girl and her mother.

The Uchiha clan was bound tightly to blood; it would do them good to look outside themselves for once. Such a suggestion would come at a price though, and change would not come willingly. He had many things to think over that required clarity of mind.

He shook his head, "I'll pass. Have a good night, cousin."

Shisui gave Itachi a pat on the back before heading out in the opposite direction of the compound. Itachi took to the roofs and made his way home in a quick, shinobi fashion. As he came to his home, he jumped to the ground and quietly opened the sliding door. He entered the hallway and made his way to the main room where light came from under the door. Again he quietly slid the light frame on the rails, and then he bowed before entering. His mother sat upon a mat, her legs folded under her. At her sides were scrolls and books. In her hands rested an open book and she looked up to look at her son.

"How is Sasuke?" she asked immediately, still worried over her child's condition.

"Physically he is doing much better, but he just learned about his teammate," he told her truthfully, "He is blaming himself for not being able to protect her."

"Yes, the girl..." his mother trailed off, "How is she?"

"They have her stabilized but they still do not know if she will pull through," he replied. He glanced at the floor, at the books beside his mother. They were herbology of the lands ruled by the shinobi villages.

"That poison did a number on her. The hokage even has me working on it," the black haired woman extended her arms to the papers around her, "The fact that they were unable to detect it through the normal tests is making some extremely fearful of what this poison maker might do next. I've looked at almost every text I own and I still have not discovered the base compound or the third identified supplement."

"What he might do next? Naruto said that Kakashi killed the man that had the knife," Itachi questioned. The poisoner was dead.

"The hokage sent out a jounin team to look at the area, see if there were any other missing-nin. They found a base and a shipment of weapons all coated in the same substance as the weapon used on Sakura. That's why he's sent everyone who's had poison experience to look at it," his mother massaged one of her temples with her free hand.

"I don't even know if they were truly able to get the poison out of her system. Has that wound on her arm started to show signs of closing or healing?"

"No, the doctor has her on antibiotics."

His mother's black eyes glinted, "Do you know which antibiotic?"

Itachi closed his eyes, remembering the conversation he'd had with a nurse earlier. "The latest shipment from Tsunade I believe."

His mother extended her hand up and Itachi pulled her to her feet. "I need to see the recipe for this antibiotic. It may be what is keeping that girl alive, if I am correct in saying the poison is not fully out of her system. Did they try any other antibiotic?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"Alright then. I need to see the hokage and get to the lab. I hope Haruka was able to get a concentrate of the poison, it wasn't liquid."

"The poison wasn't liquid?"

"Haruka believes it was crafted into the blade itself. It's extremely nasty and brilliant. It's another reason why finding as much as we can about this poison is so important. Would you accompany me?" his mother asked offhanded, suddenly aware that perhaps her son had come to the room to look for her specifically and had not gone straight to his room as was usual.

"Yes, I would," he extended his arm to his mother and she slipped her hand through.

"What is it you wished to speak with me about?" she asked as they made their way onto the street.

"Several things," Itachi told her as they passed under the street lamps of their district and out the gate and into the rest of the village. "I am worried about the emotional state of Sasuke's friend, Naruto Uzumaki. It has a occurred to me that this may be the first loss the boy has experienced; he has no family nor anybody to help him through his grief besides Sasuke, who is currently in the same situation, and Kakashi, who has not yet awoken. I not sure if my giving comfort is the best-"

His mother cut him off then, knowing exactly where the conversation was heading.

"You want me to play surrogate mother?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am," Itachi dipped his head in submission to whatever she decided.

His mother was a strong woman, and many might even place her outside the realm of being a mother. The clan had shaped her into the appearance of a lady and she was in a situation where her appearance meant everything. Speaking with the boy, offering comfort, would look disagreeable with most of the public that hated the child. It would appear to the outside eye that she would not help him. But Itachi knew that inside was the kind hearted person that the clan was unable to touch. She would not let the boy waver alone in this rough patch in life, even if she only played a subtle role in getting someone else to console him.

Rich red lips pursed together in thought and the wrinkles under his mother's eyes scrunched together. Finally his mother looked at him. "Very well. I'll be bringing lunch to the hospital for Sasuke; I might as well bring... what is it the boy likes?"

"Ramen," Itachi answered, he'd listened to the boy complain for two straight hours about how the hospital didn't have any.

The woman nodded, "What else did you wish to speak with me about?"

"Assuming the girl does live. What will happen to her?" It was the question at the forefront of his mind, the one he wanted to ask first; but it was not as important as the request he had to make, so he had put it second.

"That depends on how damaged she is. I heard she was smart so she might be given the option of helping out at the academy or a desk job, that is assuming her brain wasn't damaged with that poison. It is highly possible she'll return to the life of a civilian."

"Is it possible for her to return to being a shinobi?" He asked cautiously.

At that his mother turned around to face him. Her black eyes narrowed into slits and her lips thinned into a straight line. "Would you ask such questions if Katsumi had not died?"

Itachi froze. His heart shook in his chest. But the only outside expression of his inner pain was the twitch of his right cheek skin.

"I would be a fool to not see that the situation your brother is in was similar to your own," his mother explained, "As hard as it might be, please try to understand-"

"Her mother had not been alerted to the fact that her own daughter was-," he cut her off.

"Do you wish for me to speak-."

"I already notified her and escorted her to the hospital. It was as if taking her in last was not enough," he continued on, his tone belaying his disgust.

His mother gave him a sharp look. "Interrupt me again and I will put you over my knee. I will not tolerate disrespect, even if you are upset. You blame everyone but the person responsible, which would be me. The amount of money we give to the hospital insures our family will be given the best possible treatment. Do you wish that your brother had been treated last?"

"He would not have died-"

"If he'd had the poison it would have been a likely scenario. It is hard, but it is necessary to insure our survival. If we didn't give so much then we would be the ones receiving treatment after Hyuugas and any others who decided to give to the hospital. With our reputation it is even right to assume that we would be treated last just because people hate and envy us," the woman raised one pale hand and brushed her son's cheek, "It is a burden, a heavy burden. And I am sorry you began carrying it so early; but you would want the best treatment for your child, would you not?"

"Mrs. Haruno does, just the same as you," Itachi murmured quietly.

Black eyes looked steadily into her son's until she gave a sigh and tapped his forehead.

"I hope to live long enough to see you become clan head. I have a feeling you're going to cause a lot of unrest," she smiled gently, "I would expect nothing less from my child. It is good you see all sides of the situation; you may be able to bring some change." She then rose upon her tip toes and gave a kiss to his cheek. "Do not broach such a topic with your father."

"I won't," he promised, his lips twisting up only a fraction.

"I mean it," she huffed and then she gave a pause. Her face became solemn as she continued, "And about the girl. You should know that it is possible that she could return to being a shinobi; given enough blood, sweat and tears. It will be extremely hard, especially with her heart and lungs; finding the balance between what will kill her and help her will be difficult. She's going to have to want it and want it badly. After such a blow, it's likely she'll just want to retract from the actions that got her hurt. She isn't going to be able to do it on her own. It will be hazardous if she tries training without someone who knows what they are doing. Itachi, it would be safer for her to remain outside of the shinobi life. She was raised a civilian; perhaps she should return to being so." She did not brush around the subject gently; he needed to know the truth of the matter. It would only hurt later on if she didn't. The two of them continued walking down the street.

Itachi's eyes went to the side and then down in thought. Was he only curious of her well-being because of his dead teammate; did he want her to have the chance Katsumi never got? But then again, what right had he to intervene in the young girl's life? He was far too busy as an ANBU captain and she likely wouldn't even be able to move her leg. It wouldn't be worth it, for either of them. The girl didn't need to return to the life of a shinobi; surely she had suffered enough as it was. And he… he would only see her as Katsumi, and she didn't deserve that.

"Nothing can be decided until she wakes up," his mother told him, knowing he was drowning himself in questions.

Itachi gave a nod.

The woman squeezed her son's arm. "Is there anything else?"

Itachi shook his head, "That was all."

The two of them walked into the hokage's tower and past the desk workers and up the stairs. They came to the wooden door and the woman gave one loud knock.

"Come in."

Both entered.

The hokage leaned over his desk, his balding head shined from his desk light. He looked up to greet his guests. "Mikoto-san and Itachi, good evening. I hope Sasuke is doing well."

"Sarutobi-san," she replied with a dip of her head while Itachi bowed, "Sasuke is recovering well. The same cannot be said for his teammate however. I have a theory that I think should be tested and I would like full access to a lab and equipment. I also think someone should notify Tsunade. She'd be able to figure this out quicker than the rest of us."

The third hokage nodded, "I've already sent a retrieval team; we'll see how it goes. I doubt she will return though. You have full permission, but I expect a report on the experiments done and anything other hypothesis you have."

"Shin!" the third called in a chunin, "Please escort Uchiha-san here to the fifth lab facility and aid her in any way you can."

"Please follow me Uchiha-san," the chunin said while bowing.

The third then directed his attention at the other man in the room, "Itachi is there something I can help you with?"

"No sir, I was just escorting my mother. I see she is in good hands; I'll be on my way." Lab work and vials held no interest to him. He needed to calm down and think clearly. Perhaps he'd make a side detour before heading directly home.

"Have a good night."

"You to sir," Itachi bowed and left the room and building.

His feet led him off the main road, to a side path that was well worn but unpaved. It was late enough for house lights to be turned off, making the way even darker than usual. Eventually he walked into a forested area, where the only light barely shined through the trees. He made his way toward the light until finally he stood upon the edge of the clearing. Under the light normally made for streets was an oddly shaped stone. He knew the closer he got the clearer the words carved into the stone would become.

He dipped his head in respect to what the names represented: the bodies of the fallen. He could name the twenty that had been carved this year. He could name the eighteen from the year before. He could name the twenty-five of the year before that. He could name all of those dead starting from the first name he'd ever seen carved, his dead teammate's.

Using his sharingan ability he could probably recite the entire stone for having seen it so many times, but the names did not mean anything to him. The others were written after he'd made it his business to know. Some had been ANBU, some jounin, others chunin, still others genin and the very few had still been academy students. All of them had a story and hearing them, knowing them, made him realize how mortal he truly was.

One day his name would be on the stone. He was not foolish enough to believe otherwise. The number of missions he took, the many times he'd barely escaped death by a fraction of a centimeter, it was amazing he was still alive. One day though, he would not be able to escape and the serrated ninja star, poison coated senbon, elemental jutsu, or finely sharpened katana would find him. He did not ask to live, not while others had died. He was not above them; in fact the village's greatest were on that same stone. He only asked for the guidance, wisdom and courage to face the trials before him with honor and the discernment to provide justice.

But while that was what normally went through his mind, tonight his mind was not focused on his mortality. His mind was focused on another's. There was a small girl who would likely be joining the legendary, the brave and become another flame that would no longer light the village. He prayed for her soul, her family and her friends. What mattered was not so much her death, for all died, but what was beyond, eternity. He'd been called a fool for his belief, but it kept him sane.

His eyes opened at the sound of footsteps.

"Itachi-san," a voice called quietly out into the night. It was always polite to announce one's presence when coming to the stone. It allowed the shinobi a chance to control whatever emotions lay in their heart.

"I've just come to visit my students, not to bother you. Please excuse me," the man walked into the light. The white hair was all the way down the man's back. His shoulders were pulled back but hunched under the giant scroll on his back. He walked directly in front of the stone and crouched before it. He closed his eyes and his lips moved but the emitted no sound.

Itachi knew what the sage was doing. He was speaking to the dead. Although it wasn't because he thought they would speak back. Itachi had seen others do such a thing. Shisui asked questions to think through them. Kakashi talked about his current life. His mother informed the dead of their loved ones lives. In a way, it was a formality. He'd never partaken in such though. He was not close enough with those that had passed.

He'd barely known Katsumi, they'd only been a team for a couple of months. But he felt that if the dead truly did hear, then Katsumi would not appreciate a conversation with the person responsible for his death or the person that had looked down upon him while he'd been alive.

He left the sage to his conversation out of respect. He had no business being here...


	2. Chapter 2

**_**Update 11/27/13 – **_****_xxSaphireBluexx did an amazing job once again editing. I am very grateful for her hard work! _**

**_**Edit 1/14/11 - **_****_There was some extreme grammar errors at the end of the chapter and those of you who read them, you have my deepest apologies. I'm sorry about the quality of those sections._**

__This chapter is approximately 7,600 words.__

__Warnings: this is T rated for a reason. There is some, or hints of, violence in the first part of the chapter and at the end there is some…emotional distress.__

__A side note: This fiction is rather Itachi centric…__

Redemption

Chapter 2

The brush of cool air grabbed at his bangs, putting them before his eyes. Subconsciously he swept them out of the way with his right hand. Black eyes looked down. Below him was the world. From his standpoint on the mountain he could see everything. Rivers cut across the land, making rifts; the forests looked like a dark field of grass. It looked so peaceful, but there was a sick feeling in his gut.

He knew where he was and he didn't want to be here. He closed his eyes and, like a child, pretended that if he couldn't see the world then it could not see him. He lowered himself so he was crouched next to a tree. His fingers crushed underneath the snow to tangle themselves in the frozen grass.

'No!' he wished to scream. But his mouth would not move nor would his lungs produce the air to give way to a voice. Instead he settled against the bark of the tree and waited.

The soft crunch of snow alerted him of another's approach. He shut his eyes, squeezing eyelids together—what he could not see couldn't hurt him.

"Are you coming?" the voice asked quietly, almost as if it didn't expect an answer.

He shuddered.

"You're getting cold," the voice stated the obvious.

His feet were bare and so were his fingers, against the snow they felt like thick ice, but he could not let go of the grass his fingers gripped.

"You can come with me you know," the voice said.

"No," he heard himself whisper. "I can't. I can't go."

"Very well," the voice said and the crunching sounds got softer and softer until finally he heard them no longer.

He stayed there, his feet and hands began to have sharp pains tracing through them from the cold. When it became too great he opened his eyes. He was no longer on the mountain top looking out, but he was still in the snow covered landscape. For a moment there was warmth and his eyes, against his will, looked down. Red liquid was on his hands and on the snow. His eyes traced up his body, following the drips. Blood was coming from his abdomen.

Quickly his head turned up, blurring the foliage into a smear of brown and white. His lips opened and he tried to cry out a warning—'Ambush!'—but nothing came. The warning would not have helped; they'd already started attacking; he could hear the exchange of blows somewhere before him.

There was a cry, a scream and a roar.

He pushed himself up. He tried to run, but there was the slowness of never reaching the destination. It felt like hours had past when only mere seconds had gone by. Somehow he got there. He drew a kunai out of his pouch and began analyzing the situation. A male teenager, wearing clothes like his own, was fending off two grown men in white from reaching a collapsed girl, a Hyuuga, several feet away. There was another man, wearing the green of his village, fighting off two more people in white, one a female and the other a male. His body reacted like he'd trained it to. He went to help the boy.

After many painful minutes the fight was over and the men were on the ground.

He looked at the boy, and the boy at him; they both gave a nod. They turned to the remaining opponent of the oldest member of their group. Then there was sudden movement on his peripheral vision, and it made him turn, but he was too late to do anything. The new opponent's knife was sticking out of the boy's chest and then the world came to a complete standstill. He could see everything. He could see the weight distribution of the opponent's body was off-center due to an injury; he could see the angle that the boy would be bound to fall; he could count the number of blood droplets coming out of the wound as the opponent pulled out the blade.

The emotion of anger made his vision red and he could hear a rapid heartbeat, but it was somewhere in the background. All he had ever been taught—projections, algorithms, perceptions, jutsus—raced through his mind. And then he moved, his mind calculating faster than his body.

The fighting soon came to a close and he found himself holding the boy up. The man to his right was picking up the girl, holding her carefully so the man's own twisted ankle would not be injured more than necessary.

He had bound the wound of the boy, but the white linen was already becoming red. He was unsure of how to carry his wounded comrade; but he knew that it was necessary to stop the blood flow, which meant he would end up pressing one wound to his shoulder and holding the other end of the wound with his hand. He took a breath to steady himself.

The boy's brown eyes looked out over the battlefield, at the bloodied snow. There was darken of foreshadow in his eyes as if reasoning that some, if not most, of the red coloring belonged to him. The eyes turned to the person holding him; the person trying to find the strength to cross many miles of enemy territory to get home and help for him.

"Itachi," the boy began, losing the normal formality of last name, "am I going to die?"

"No," he told the boy, "I promise you will not die."

At that moment the world seemed to go silent and the people around him and bodies and redness on the ground were no longer there. He was sitting alone in the white clearing; his fingers still curled underneath the snow to grab at the grass underneath.

He felt eyes and he looked to the edge of the clearing where pant legs, like his own, were visible.

"Are you coming with me?" the voice asked once again.

"No," he replied, "I can't. I can't go."

He shot up and his eyes opened, scanning the area around him. He was in his room.

He touched his hands to his face; they were cold. He touched his feet, frozen. He rose and went to the open window. He shut it and stared out at the dark sky. He hadn't slept long.

With a sigh he headed to the bathroom. He removed his clothing and stepped into the shower turning on hot water. His body hurt as the heat shocked his cold skin. His hands balled into fists to stop them from shaking. He closed his eyes, focusing on controlling his muscle spasms. Control, it was the only thing he lacked in dreams. He controlled nothing in them, not his actions or thoughts. There was nothing but panic and madness. It had been a long time since he'd dreamed, especially that dream, but it hadn't been long enough.

He rested under the hot water a little longer before he shut it off and dressed for training. He wouldn't be able to fall back asleep. Mentally and physically he was restless. The dream itself would not be half as troublesome if he'd been able to react in them. The actions he did upset him. He'd performed like a child. He'd gripped the snow like it had been a baby blanket. He was not that weak; he was powerful, thoughtful and strong; he was someone not given to crying, kneeling, or shrinking into a corner to hide. He either fought or fled. Never had he ever curled up into a ball and pretended the world did not exist so he wouldn't have to see it.

He finished brushing his hair and tied it into a low ponytail. He looked into the mirror; critical eyes scanned the reflective surface, looking for a mistake or variation from perfect. His frown deepened as he traced the lines coming from his eyes. His skin was starting to look a bit stretched. Subconsciously his fingers ran over his cheeks. How long had he gone without eating? He'd planned on it when he'd left the hospital but he'd gotten sidetracked and eventually forgotten he was indeed hungry. Only now that he thought about it did he have any feeling. His stomach did not growl though; his body was trained for enduring missions where food was not present. He'd been trained to ignore wants, now the only thing that prodded him was the need for rehydration and even that could be repressed until he got himself out of a rough situation. But he wasn't on a mission now nor did he find the idea of taking soldier pills without need a good idea. Although he'd never felt any of the effects, the medicine was known to be harsh on the system. Nothing was supposed to replace real food.

He opened the bathroom door, intent on heading to the kitchen, when he froze. Eyes focused on the window. It was open and he knew he had closed it.

He drew his katana and his blood line activated. Scanning the room, he found the intruder scuffling around his desk. The weapon lowered, recognizing the person.

Itachi cleared his throat.

"Hey cousin," the man slurred, turning around with a large smile on his face.

"You sound drunk, Shisui," Itachi replied blandly, walking over the window and shutting it. The man sounded very drunk and Itachi had an inkling suspicion that it was going to be a long day.

The man chuckled and leaned against the desk. "H—How you been?"

"We spoke," Itachi looked at the clock, wanting to sigh at how early it was, "five hours ago."

"No—No," The man leaned over and stumbled. "No… I mean how you been? Really, really been?"

"I am well," Itachi said, irritated by the conversation. "I find it hard to believe that you weren't able to find your way home, but somehow managed to get through my window," Itachi tried hinting at his displeasure.

Shisui eased himself onto the corner of the bed and looked up. At first Itachi thought Shisui would try to make amends, but instead the drunken man continued on his first train of thought, "You look…look," he stared off for a moment. Itachi waited patiently, knowing that eventually the thought would return… or at least he hoped it would. "You look awful."

"Hmm," Itachi acknowledged the sentence. He extended his hand to Shisui to get him off the bed so it could be made. The man took the hand and Itachi pulled up, hauling all of the weight. Stumbling forward, Shisui grabbed onto Itachi's shoulders to steady himself.

Itachi could only close his eyes and try not to breathe as the smell of alcohol washed over him. His patience was beginning to wear thin with his lack of sleep though. "Shisui, why are you here?" subtlety was gone, he wanted a good answer.

How much had the man had? He'd never seen Shisui so drunk before, normally he was just a little beyond intoxicated. In those times, his trips to find Itachi had usually been straightforward apologies of past mistakes in childhood that Itachi hadn't even thought of in years. Once, the man had even apologized for being jealous. Itachi hadn't known what to say and found it rather difficult to react in words. He never figured out what to do with the information; so he decided to let it drop when the older man began heaving and running towards the bathroom. Twice, Shisui had come demanding a fight because, somehow in Shisui's mind, he thought he could beat Itachi after taking a few shots.

Shisui gave Itachi a goofy grin, "I came to see you."

Itachi didn't quite know what to do with that, so he nodded his head and decided to take it as an odd form of a compliment. He applied pressure to Shisui's chest to get him off and held him steady until the man appeared balanced. Then Itachi pulled off the blankets, top sheet and pillows and began making his bed. He made sure the blankets were loose and not tucked; he wanted to be able to move freely at night. He remembered waking up in the hospital and being unable to move. It had set his nerves on alert and almost made him use a jutsu on a nurse. The thought of a hospital made his thoughts return to his brother. How was he fairing? This would be his first time being admitted overnight. At least his brother would be in a room with someone he knew, that thought eased some of his worry.

His mind then went to the girl. If the girl died, it would have long lasting effects.

The chunin exams would be coming up in the six months. Although they were fresh out of the academy, both, his brother and his brother's friend, were talented enough to enter. Chunin exams were set for three-man teams for a reason. And his brother would not be able to enter without having a full team.

While it was true, the team could be given another member, but that would only be possible if another team were to befall a worse fate than their own or if someone failed the chunin exams from a previous year. Both were rather unlikely. No re-taker would take a chance with fresh students, even if one was an Uchiha.

Ultimately his brother's remaining team would be subject to the hokage's analysis, as Itachi and his surviving teammate had been. He'd been upgraded immediately with his genin sensei's permission to jounin. The Hyuuga had not been so lucky. Last he heard, she was serving the main branch as a maid. She'd only been given one shot and when she did not achieve like he had, in record time, she was forced out of shinobi life. He hadn't seen her since the special exam.

He fluffed the last pillow and put it on the bed. He set the pillow down carefully aligning it to be parallel with the other.

"You're not going to bed?" Shisui said, as if astounded by the conclusion he'd come to.

"It's four in the morning; I am not going back to bed." He did not wish to have another helpless dream. The thoughts of his brother and the girl had brought upon his past, which was better left untouched. He did not wish to mar his memories with second guessing. The only thing worse than seeing an untrue reality was believing one. Lies, even to oneself, never did any good. It was best if he got control over his mind now before he was sent on a mission. A dream like that would put him up for psych-evaluation, if one of his teammates decided to turn him in.

"But… It's bedtime," Shisui looked very doubtful at Itachi. "It's time to sleep."

"It's not time for me. Want me to walk you home?" Itachi asked, half hoping Shisui still had the keys.

"I don't want to leave; I like it here."

Itachi decided to take it as another compliment. He couldn't stay though. He only lived a few houses down; it would be easy to get him there on his way to the training grounds. Itachi opened his mouth to make Shisui more inclined to remove himself from the property, but Shisui cut him off.

"Have you ever thought what it would have been like to grow up a civilian?"

The question threw Itachi off guard and he looked at his cousin with confusion.

"I was walking home and these kids…these civilian kids had sleeping rolls. I asked where they were going and he told they were going to sleep over at someone's house. I don't mean it in a dirty way either—I really don't. They just hang out. They don't practice katas, spar and they aren't given shuriken and sent out to hit a bull's eye. They—They don't do anything productive. Can you imagine one night not having to without practicing a kata; where you just do nothing, like when you were in the hospital, except you get to hang out with friends?"

"I've never heard of such a thing," Itachi replied. The children could have been pulling a drunken man's leg for fun—he wouldn't put it past them. The idea of civilians with sleeping rolls seemed slightly dubious to begin with, unless they were traveling somewhere. But if Shisui said sleeping rolls he must have meant it; he didn't know much about the other side of the village life to agree or disagree.

"I asked if I could join them and they said it was invitation only. Do you think… Do you know why we've never been invited to one?" Shisui asked sitting back down on the bed.

Itachi sat beside him in thought. His cousin was expecting an answer, for he would not have asked if it wasn't bothering him. It did not matter if the civilians meant it as a joke or not. Shisui was concerned about being left out. It did not bother Itachi; he knew he wasn't the most included person, and his closest and only needed friend was the man currently beside him. It was rare for Shisui to seek comfort, but it was obvious that was his intent.

"Perhaps they knew our families would not have allowed us to go."

"They wouldn't have known that…" The man said, his frown increasing as he shook his head, "There was no way they knew that."

"I'm sure they would have. Our family would never allow any of us to sleep outside the compound in a place so unprotected by their standards. We could have easily been kidnapped by one of our enemies."

Shisui gave a sigh, clearly unhappy with Itachi's assessment.

It then occurred to Itachi that his cousin was in his room for a reason and that his cousin was no longer being subtle about his reason. The conversation had been made as a suggestion. The grown man didn't want to leave for one reason.

"Would you like to stay?" Itachi asked.

Shisui smiled, "Yes." The man lay down upon the bed and immediately closed his eyes.

Itachi looked down at his cousin's peaceful face wondering exactly what he was supposed to do now.

Then it came to him that he needed to make one thing clear. "If you feel the need to use the toilet or to puke you need to make it to the bathroom, remember it's on the opposite side than your room."

"Gotcha," came the slurred reply before soft snores emitted from the man.

Itachi sighed and got up. Next time he would go to the bar with Shisui, if only to make sure his cousin never got so intoxicated again. It wasn't right seeing him in such a mindless state when he was normally such a brilliant person. The Shisui before him seemed so much weaker and fragile. He wasn't the understanding ear or strong foundation Itachi was used to. It was uncomfortable to realize that there was more uncertainty beneath the smiling surface.

Itachi shifted Shisui's body carefully so that the man was fully on the bed. He put a pillow under Shisui's head and removed the man's shoes. Then he laid one edge of the blanket over the man as if to wrap him. He'd needed to wash his blankets anyway.

He left the room quietly and walked down the hall. There he paused to remember what his plans had been before Shisui had interrupted him. He waited for several moments but nothing came. He'd been upset by his dream, which had left him restless. He probably would have wanted to rid himself of the energy. Thinking that training had been his destination to begin with, he left the house to head into the woods owned by his clan.

He walked further and further until he decided he'd gone far enough away from civilization to not wake anyone from their slumber. He took to the trees and began practicing aerial manoeuvres, something which he hadn't done in sometime. He activated his blood line and began imagining his previous opponents. He saw them right before his eyes, casting jutsus, attacking, throwing. Battles played out in his mind and he began testing the limits of his speed and flexibility. He sprung into the air to dodge a kick, calculating his fall and projection angle; he grabbed hold of a tree branch and used the moment to swing himself up. There he faced another opponent from his past, this one using a katana to strike his chest. He dodged again, his body in air when another enemy began casting a water jutsu. This time the manoeuvre he used, a twist to the side to hit a tree and bounce back, was not fast enough. The jutsu would have hit him, causing injury to his left leg. He dropped to the ground and the vision stopped.

He made his way back up to the spot where he originally began. He activated his blood line once more, starting over. The enemy kicked and he took to the air. Over and over he went through the fight sequences, if he messed up, if he was even touched, he started all over again.

Eventually when the forest became lit with the sunrise, Itachi stopped his training. He made his way home thankful that the chilly air was cooling his hot and sweating body. He nodded to the clan members he passed on the road home, making sure to give the respectful bow and polite 'Good Morning' to any of the elders that were about.

Itachi walked into his house and headed to his room to check on Shisui.

"Father," Itachi greeted the man about to open the door to Itachi's sleeping quarters. It was a good thing he'd gotten home when he did. Shisui would have been severely punished for being drunk and sleeping in the clan head's household. His father would have been furious at such blatant disrespect from another member.

"Itachi," the man replied, taking his hand away from the door. His black eyes looked Itachi over. "You were out training," he said not quite a question but more like a demand for agreement.

"Of course," Itachi dipped his head. As irritated as he was by the attitude, he did not rise to the baited challenge. It would do no good to start a fight with him this early in the morning, at least with his lack of sleep.

"Have you seen your mother?" the reason why his father even wanted to converse with him came out.

"She went to work on the poison in one of the labs. There is reason to believe that the man who wielded the blade did not create the toxin," Itachi explained.

"Hmph. So it seems we are called upon only when they are in desperate need of help. They were not able to figure it out on their own," his father's mouth twitched.

Itachi wanted to take a deep breath, but kept his face blank and just nodded to his father. The man's view was radically different from his own and it was hard sometimes to communicate with him. He wished one day they would be able to find a way to connect, but ever since he'd been ten years old things had been very difficult between them.

His father turned around and went on his way; his question had been answered.

Itachi opened the door to his room and walked in. Shisui was asleep but had somehow turned his body a hundred-and-eighty degrees. The debate to wake the sleeping man went through Itachi's mind, but looking at the clock decided it. It was seven-forty-five; the man had only gotten four hours of sleep. Itachi wanted at least one person to get a good rest if their body permitted it. He wished his mind would let him sleep so soundly. Letting his cousin rest, Itachi grabbed a clean set of clothes and went into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

First, he took his medication. Then he used a wet wash rag to wipe most of the sweat off. He dressed in clean clothes, putting his training ones into his hamper. His mind returned to his cousin in the other room and he decided to do him another favor. Filling a glass on the counter with water, Itachi also pulled out a small bottle of painkillers from the cabinet. He took out two and put the bottle back. He took the pills and water and put them in view of Shisui, but not within reach; it looked like he tossed and turned a lot.

Itachi left his room and then went down the hall. He promised Sasuke he'd come in the morning and he'd do just as he promised. He froze slightly on that thought… promises… He closed his eyes and pushed the thought forcefully from his mind.

What would his brother want from home? Or more reasonably, what would keep him occupied and out of trouble?

Itachi turned toward the small home library and began thinking of which books would be useful. His brother had gained another tomo to his sharingan, a book on the topic would be valuable but putting such literature outside of the compound was dangerous. There were some books on the variety of fighting styles in the world, but perhaps something so technical would not be a joy to his brother as it would have been to him. Itachi had found very early on that they differed in opinions about books. His brother had tried to hide it to please him but as a child he had no control over his display of emotions.

Sasuke enjoyed mysteries and solving things, perhaps a book would not be the best object to hold his attention. Itachi remembered the puzzle box he'd had made for his brother's birthday. Itachi turned to leave and get the puzzle from his room when a particular book caught his eye.The Kageswas the title of the book. His brother's friend was known to shout to the world that he was going to be hokage of the village. The book, of course, was historic and dry, even by his taste. The boy would no doubt grow tired on page two and put it down. The book reminded him of another though.

It had been calledSecrets of the Yellow Flashand his mother had gotten it for him when he had expressed interest in learning about the fourth. His father had been furious—the book was more of a novel due to the creative liberties the author had taken. But the book was informative, discussing some theories behind the variety of major jutsus. It had been written right before the Third Shinobi War ended, previous to the Yellow Flash becoming hokage. The book was supposed to interest students in the shinobi arts by telling of the war hero, and it also was created to help students understand fuuinjutsu. The story was light and humorous, somewhat odd compared to the attitude of the time, so the boy would enjoy it. But now was the challenge of finding the book he hadn't seen in ten years, having put it down when he was eight.

Itachi quickly scanned the shelves for the somewhat dense but nonetheless paperback book. It took some time before he found the book on the bottom shelf where his father put most of the things he considered junk, but his mother insisted upon keeping either for sentimental reason or, in his father's opinion, to bother the clan head. It rested beside the shinobi picture book of weapon types that Sasuke had learned to read from.

Itachi dusted off the outer surface ofSecrets of the Yellow Flashand then flipped through the pages. He paused immediately on one of the pages, seeing something he did not expect. He peered closer at the page, astounded. Small words were written in the paragraph breaks and any other open space. They were his notes that he'd taken as he applied the theories of jutsus on possibilities he'd come up with. Itachi flipped through more pages, reading the writing. He was dismayed that he'd written in the book, in ink no less, but he was also excited. It was as if he'd picked up some long lost treasure. While most were just scribbles that had gone nowhere, several he'd continued to sophisticate into some of his best moves.

His handwriting was eligible but it was slanted in the style of his mother's, who'd taught him his letters. It took him many years to train himself to do otherwise. Now his handwriting was perfectly straight and using his sharingan he could copy any other style if the need arose. Quickly he scanned the book with his bloodline ability, making sure that there was no harm in giving the boy the book. Another page stopped him. A brown dry drop was on the right hand corner of the page. It was his blood.

Itachi ran his finger over the spot, a memento of his first try at fuuinjutsu. A small smile made its way upon his face. It hadn't done anything and he'd been so disappointed that he'd put the book away, telling himself he'd never continue. He had, several hours later, returned to retrieve the book with a passion and determination—he would achieve perfection.

It had taken countless months of frustration until he finally was able to accomplish a seal.

Itachi finished going through the pages and closed the book. Turning it to read the back cover, he was surprised at the picture on the back. The young blond haired man stared back at him with smiling blue eyes that were too familiar to not have met. Pieces fell together; their similar physical characteristic, the fact that the fourth had used the boy in the first place for holding the seal. The Kyuubi container wasn't a nobody after all. The boy was the son of the fourth.

Itachi almost dropped the book at the realization. He didn't know how he could have missed it.

The boy he'd thought so little of was actually the son of the man he most respected. The fourth had died to seal the beast within his own son. The boy's father had been the one to curse him.

Itachi dipped his head; respect for the man grew even more. He'd sacrificed his life and the life of his son's for the village. His grip on the book tightened, it only seemed right to fully give the book to the boy and not just let him borrow it. The boy knew nothing of his parent, or he would have heard of it. The fourth had many Iwa enemies so it was clear the boy's last name had been changed so that he would not be harmed. But it seemed odd that no one, in thirteen years, had told the boy who he was.

He closed his eyes, knowing that the leaders of the village probably had a good reason for it. He just didn't understand what the reason was, however it was not his place to ask or to speak to the boy about it. Knowing who the boy was though, changed his perception of the over-active child. His father sacrificed both of them for the village, so death had been what took away the boy's father. The mother though… What had happened to her? After finding her child to be a container did she leave him to the care of the village?

Itachi left the library and made his way to his bedroom. He walked swiftly but silently to his desk and opened the drawer and retrieved the oddly shaped metal device. It was hand sized and octagonal on each of its eight sides. On each of the sides was a twenty by twenty grid. One grid piece remained open and the others were tiles. Each side required a particular combination, which could be made by moving the pieces around, and only when all sides were correct would the device open. The symbols were just lines, but they would form a kanji. The eight were fire, will, leaf, courage, power, intelligence, integrity, and humility. The device would keep Sasuke busy until he realized that that the symbols would form a kanji.

Inside of the object he'd already placed a message to his brother and a finely made chain that could be used for number of things, including being worn as a necklace. But its main use was for silent assassination manoeuvre, such as choking one's opponent to death. The metal was quite sturdy, so it could also be used to connect weapons if the need ever arose.

Itachi closed the drawer and watched, eyebrows raised, as Shisui curled into a ball only to spring out and turn over, searching for another comfortable position to rest.

Itachi left for the hospital, hoping that he'd set the water glass far enough away from the tossing figure. He also hoped his father wouldnot seek him out again and find Shisui.

When Itachi got to his brother's room he was happy to see the boy was awake and in a lively argument with his roommate. Color was beginning to return to the pale face and Itachi was relieved at the difference from several days ago, when the boy had been unconscious.

"Sasuke," Itachi said entering the room, declaring his presence.

Sasuke turned immediately, "Brother." The boy tried to downplay the joy of seeing, him but had a difficult time keeping a straight face. Itachi gave a gentle smile and then reached into his pocket. Sasuke sat up straighter, excitement dancing in his eyes. He was still the young child that enjoyed anything that his brother gave him. Itachi extended the gift and Sasuke carefully took it. He turned the puzzle in his hand.

"I thought it would keep you busy while you were here. Only one specific combination opens it." Itachi hoped it would entertain him for a while. His brother didn't even look up; eyes were already inspecting the device with scrutiny.

Itachi turned his gaze to the blond headed boy, the son of the Fourth. The boy was looking out the window, careful to avoid looking at a family's private interaction. He felt sympathy and an overwhelming emotion of maternity. Before him was the son of the man he'd only met once as a child. That one meeting had given him an insight as to what the word peace really meant. He would make sure the boy was given the chance to achieve his dream, if he ended up being anything like his father then the village would surely prosper.

He wondered if the boy had ever received a gift before. It saddened him. The village owed much to the child before him. The boy's entire life had been given up for the village without his consent.

"Naruto," Itachi said to grab the boy's attention.

The boy looked over at him, surprised and confused at being called upon by his friend's older brother. They'd met several times before but this was he'd ever started a conversation with him.

Itachi felt a film of guilt wrap his heart; he'd wronged the boy just as much as the rest of the village. He tossed the book that had been pressed between his upper arm and side to the boy. It was time he started making up for it.

The boy caught it and at first looked excited, then daunted at what had been given to him.

"Thanks Itachi-san," Naruto said sporting an odd grin. He was happy to get something but wasn't sure how to react to a present that was rather useless to him. The book was larger than most he'd seen and he probably wished to have been given something akin to which Sasuke was fiddling with. He didn't want to sound off about it though**,** for he was thankful that'd he'd actually been remembered.

Itachi waited patiently, staring at Naruto which put the boy in more discomfort. "Secrets of the Yellow Flash," Naruto read, eyebrows rising.

Sasuke's head shot up at the word 'secrets' and Itachi ignored him.

"Yellow Flash was the nickname of the Fourth Hokage before he was hokage," Itachi explained, wondering how much history the boy had ever bothered to learn. "I thought you might find it interesting since you are planning to become hokage, or perhaps I heard wrong."

The boy immediately beamed, "You definitely heard right. I'm going to become the next hokage!"

He could see Sasuke roll his eyes in his peripheral vision. Itachi guessed the boy probably said it a lot**. **

"Then I hope you will enjoy hearing about some of the jutsus that made another hokage famous," of course he was lying through his teeth about that. The book never went into detail about the jutsu's the fourth used, much to his childhood frustration. The writer used the jutsus to go into an introduction on theories and history that would be helpful to anyone wanting to create their own jutsu.

That was when Itachi remembered he forgot to mention something to the young boy, who was currently reading the first chapter, "You'll have to excuse my rough hand notes. I hope they don't bother you." He got rather irritated when someone decided to write in books he read, such as those from the public shinobi section of the library (which he'd gone to when his home library had not satisfied his curiosity).

The boy gave him a weird look before flipping through the pages to try and find the writing. Sasuke's full attention was now devoted to the object in Naruto's hands.

Itachi watched his brother, somewhat surprised by the action. Sasuke enjoyed solving things for himself, not reading about them in books. "It's not a mystery," Itachi said quietly to his brother, "there are no secrets either. It's a lot of theories strung together by a stretched theme."

Sasuke looked up at his brother and then back at the book, envy clear in his eyes. The lower lip stuck out slightly. He was still upset but trying to conceal it. Perhaps he was upset that Naruto would enjoy such reading that Itachi did. Itachi sat upon the bed, waiting patiently to get his brother's attention once more. It seemed more often than not he was waiting for someone or something. He was living a life of reaction. Sometimes he got tired of it, of watching the world, of seeing everything go by him and not doing anything about it.

He touched his brother's hands. Black eyes looked directly at him before dropping to the side. His brother's cheeks turned red at being caught. Sasuke was still a child in so many ways. He wondered what would become of the child that he'd once carried on his shoulders. Surely the world would terrorize the boy as it had terrorized him.

His sibling looked back up at him, curious if he was mad. Their father would have been furious; their mother deeply disappointed. Itachi wasn't quite sure if he should be one or the other. It wasn't right to be envious, but it was an emotion that was bound to come up sometime. Itachi had felt its alluring pull many years ago. So many times he'd seen children on the streets playing games and he'd wanted to be one of them. But he'd been heir and it was not respectable to be seen playing. He was already about to graduate the academy so it was even more looked down upon. It made him angry at first, but eventually it had become the motivation for him to continue down a path of life he could never have supported otherwise. In the end he would be the one protecting them, allowing them to continue playing without fear. He would shoulder the burden and he would bear its weight if it permitted them happiness. It was his duty.

The emotion of envy was his brother's and the boy was old enough to decide what to do with it. Any support or displeasure on his part would affect his brother's choice. Emotional control had to come from within, not from another source. His brother needed to find his own way or he'd never be able to make it on his own. It was about time he started making choices for himself.

"How did you sleep?" he asked, changing the subject.

The boy shrugged his shoulders, not willing to answer. He picked up the puzzle and began fiddling with it in his hands. He'd probably had nightmares, not an uncommon thing from having such an experience.

"Did Shisui tell any good stories?" Itachi asked, wondering how much alcohol the man had previous to getting a second round.

Sasuke's lips went up and a secretive look came into his eyes. Obviously Shisui had told a story about him. He wondered how badly his role had been manipulated.

Itachi was going to ask more when a knock came from the door and a nurse walked in. "Breakfast!" the woman smiled and Itachi had an odd feeling the woman meant it as well.

He probably would have wondered how she found joy in her job, but alas, Itachi found his attention was captured by the grey matter on the trays she was holding. He was definitely hungry if the mush was tempting him to be devoured.

Naruto groaned and Sasuke made a face, the woman smiled even brighter.

"I'll see you later," Itachi told Sasuke standing up. He needed to get some food. He walked down the stairs, his full intent on finding something to consume when angry shouts drew his attention. If he'd been gifted with foresight he would have kept walking, but he'd been trained to keep the peace. His duty called him to confront those that were causing a ruckus.

He walked down the hall of the intensive care unit towards the noise. From his distance he could hear a scuffle.

"Put me down!" a woman's voice cried but cracked from being hoarse.

Two men stepped backwards out of a room, holding a small woman by her shoulders and arms. Her feet dangled off the ground and she kicked wildly like a crazed animal. "They're killing my baby!" the woman choked.

It took a second but Itachi quickly recognized the woman as Ms. Haruno. Her hair, which had been neatly kept was loose, unbound and everywhere. Her makeup had smeared across her face. And her clothes looked ragged and discolored from a liquid substance, most likely tears. The woman looked around her and it was obvious she recognized him as well. "Help me!" she cried. With a bout of energy she untangled herself from the men holding her and ran to him, grabbing onto him.

The guards quickly grabbed her again and pulled her off.

As much as he wished to make the men unhand her, it occurred to him that there was probably a good reason for holding her back.

"What is going on?" Itachi asked the guards, but the woman was the one who answered.

"They're killing my baby—you have to make them stop—they're killing her!" the woman was in tears and her body went limp. She'd stopped resisting.

Itachi's eyes searched the guards, but it was clear they'd probably not understand any medical technicalities. Itachi decided he'd best get it from a doctor.

He walked into a room, but his clear headed mind froze at the chaos inside. Several nurses were around the bedside, checking vitals. Another nurse was bagging oxygen on the girl, a tell-tale sign that for some reason the girl had stopped breathing or was not getting enough oxygen into her system. Had her lungs failed her already?

His eyes went to the doctor and he was doing chest compressions, the girl's heart had stopped. But then Itachi's eyes rested on the one person who wasn't doing anything but observing. The woman's eyes were red and black, and they watched the sight before her as if from a distance. In her hands were three vials, two empty and one full of a blue liquid.

"Doctor," the woman said to get his attention.

He turned looking at her as he paused his compressions, a nurse took over.

The woman extended the blue vial to the man and he hesitated glancing at the girl with fear. "Now," the woman said patiently, but there was demand in her tone. Her lips twitched and it drew attention to her cheek, where blood from a long scratch could be seen.

"Y-yes Lady Uchiha," the man said stuttering before taking the vial and using a needle to take out the substance.

The nurse doing chest compressions glared directly at the woman.

With the needle filled, the man then pressed the long metal barb into the girl's chest cavity, where her heart would be. Outside the door a screaming howl was heard. Before Itachi's eyes the machine marking the girl's heartbeat came to life, but then the beating became too fast. Deep horror struck him as he watched the girl's body begin seizing.

A dry sob was the only sound Itachi could hear as the doctor's mouth opened to tell the nurses what to do. His eyes went to the woman, who now only held three empty vials. Her eyes met his. Grief swarmed inside of him as he wondered what his mother had done.

He turned back to the commotion, but the pink haired girl seemed to fade away as his bloodline activated. Instead the scene was replaced by bloody walls and a boy, no older than fourteen, covered in red.


End file.
